


heartache to sing

by akamine_chan



Series: The Sharpest Lives [16]
Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard was nervous but would never, ever admit to it.  He paced, chain-smoking Poison’s cigarettes and running his hands through his unruly hair, causing it to stick up more than usual.  “I don’t understand why you won’t tell me.”  He scowled at Poison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heartache to sing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turlough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turlough/gifts).



> Written for Turlough's birthday, because she is awesome.
> 
> Many, many thanks to Turps for help; quick betas by x_dark_siren_x and andeincascade. Thanks ladies, for everything.
> 
> Title from _Disenchanted_ by My Chemical Romance.

Gerard was nervous but would never, ever admit to it. He paced, chain-smoking Poison’s cigarettes and running his hands through his unruly hair, causing it to stick up more than usual. “I don’t understand why you won’t tell me.” He scowled at Poison.

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, motorbaby.”

“Fucker.”

Poison raised an eyebrow. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Gerard just shook his head and went back to pacing.

Amused, Poison slouched back in the booth and watched Gerard. It’d taken a couple of weeks to convince Gerard, and then a while longer to arrange things, but it was going to be worth it to see the look on Gerard’s face. Poison tilted his head down, letting his hair hide his grin. “Our ride should be here in a bit.”

Gerard threw himself into the booth next to Poison, close but not touching. “Whatever.”

“Uh huh.” He reached out and traced the whorl of Gerard’s ear, relishing the shiver that ran through him. “Trust me, sugar.” He laughed as Gerard swatted at his hand and rolled his eyes. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Gerard’s temple, sneaking his fingers onto Gerard’s thigh and sliding them _up_.

“Stop it,” Gerard said, pushing Poison’s hand away from his leg. “Asshole.”

Poison shrugged and settled back against the wall. “Just trying to help by distracting you.”

Snorting, Gerard shook his head. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“Whatever.” Poison closed his eyes and relaxed, ignoring the way Gerard was twitching and jittering next to him, bouncing his leg in time to a rhythm only he could hear. 

It wasn’t long before Poison heard the thrumming of an engine in the distance. He cocked his head, listening. “Sounds like them,” he murmured, climbing over Gerard to get out of the booth. He grabbed the trinocs hanging by the window and used them to scan the approaching vehicles, a car and two motorcycles.

Definitely not Dracs, and Poison was almost sure that the driver of the car was Pony. Poison grinned; Pony was always good times. “Last chance to back out, shiny. You ready to do this?”

Gerard looked like he wanted to bolt, but he held his ground, mouth twisted mulishly. “Let’s do it.”

“Good boy.”

They waited under the canopy by the old gas pumps until Pony pulled up in zie's old junker, the two motorcycles close behind, like dark shadows. Poison squinted at them, but couldn't identify them by their outfits. He shrugged. He didn't know _everyone_ in the Dust.

Zie rolled down the window and wolf-whistled. "Hey, pretty things, looking for a good time?"

"I'm always a good time," Poison said, nudging at Gerard. Pony grinned and it reminded Poison of how young zie really was. "Let's get this show on the road, baby. Gerard's been jonesing for his surprise."

Climbing out of the car, Pony held up a couple of strips of dark cloth. "You know the deal, PP," zie said regretfully.

"Yeah," he muttered, and he turned around to let Pony blindfold him.

"Oh, fuck no." Gerard's voice was rough and a little panicky. "No fucking way."

"Gerard." Poison kept his voice pitched low as Pony tied the cloth off. He held out his hand to Gerard. "It's okay, I promise." He could feel Gerard's fear, could almost _smell_ it. "Trust me," Poison said again. He waited, and didn't say a word when Gerard finally put his hand into Poison's. "I've got you, baby," he murmured, bringing Gerard's fingers up to his lips and brushing a kiss over the knuckles.

He couldn't really _see_ anything from behind the cloth, but he could make out Pony's vague shadow as zie carefully loaded them into the back of the car and took off; Poison heard the roar of the motorcycles following along. It was hotter than hell and Pony kept the windows down as zie drove, singing old show tunes loudly to zieself. The wind whipped Poison's hair into tangles and he held tight to Gerard's hand. He sighed softly when Gerard finally relaxed enough to lean against him.

It was a long drive and Poison let himself doze a little, head resting against Gerard's, Pony's voice weirdly soothing from the front seat. 

Gerard tensed when they slowed down and Poison soothed a hand down his back. "Easy." 

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Gerard growled, shrugging off his hand.

"Just wait, motorbaby. Just wait. Almost there."

"Fuck you," Gerard hissed.

"Okay, everyone out," Pony said, and the car rolled to a stop. "You can take the blindfolds off now." The door opened and the seat squeaked as Pony pushed it forward to let Gerard and Poison out of the back.

Poison pulled off his blindfold, blinking his eyes to adjust to the dimness.

"What the fuck?" Gerard sounded confused.

"C'mon, sugar. Best not to keep her waiting." He climbed out of the car and fist-bumped Pony. "Thanks for the ride."

Gerard turned in a circle. They were in an small underground parking area; a tunnel led back into the sunlight. There was a string of LED lanterns along the walls, casting shadows and highlighting a door set in the wall. "Poison—"

"Yeah." He gestured to the door. "Let's go." He led the way, since he'd been here before. The door wasn't locked, was never locked, and he only hesitated for a brief moment before opening it.

It was a giant cavern, filled with relics of the past. 

Poison had been told, once, that the structure had been a mine, before the Bombs. Since then, it had become a safe place for precious _things_ , books and music and film and art and anything else that needed to be protected and sheltered and hidden away from BL/ind.

When Poison'd been young, he'd been trooped out with the rest of his age-mates to a mandatory rally in the center of Bat City where upper management from BL/ind had lectured them about the excesses and corruptions of the past before destroying a handful of paintings they'd confiscated from an old museum. He'd watched, grim and silent, as the ancient canvases caught fire and _burned_ , all the bright colors turned black.

He'd made promises to himself that day, to do what he could to keep the colors alive.

"Hello, Poison." She appeared out of the shadows, like a pale ghost. 

Gerard jumped a little in surprise, but Poison had been expecting her. He reached out and took her hand, pulling her close and brushing a kiss on her cheek. "Hello, beautiful."

"Rogue," she said, turning to Gerard. "And you must be Gerard. I've heard a lot about you."

Poison pushed Gerard forward. "This is the Archivist." She was tall, as tall as Poison. Her hair was short and mohawked, dyed neon orange. Her voice was quiet and accented; Poison had never been able to place the soft consonants, rounded vowels and rhythmic cadence, but he loved to listen to her talk, the way the sounds curled on her tongue. She'd mentioned once, in passing, that she'd been visiting friends and had gotten trapped when the borders had closed after the Bombs had dropped. 

The Archivist wore nothing but black: shirt, pants, boots, black bandana tied around her neck. Poison secretly coveted her boots, all the straps and buckles and shiny bits, and the twinkle in her blue eyes made him think that maybe she knew. Her thick-rimmed glasses were ridiculously held together with bits of tape and wire, but Poison never laughed.

He's spent six weeks with her one summer, hidden away in her cave, helping catalog the collection of books that had been smuggled through the network of trusted people that Dr. D had cobbled together. Poison'd learned a lot from her, not only about art and music and books, but about himself, too. He was still mostly in love with her.

She was the greatest secret in the Zones, the Archivist and her treasures, one that many people had died to protect. 

"Poison tells me you're an artist," she said to Gerard, curling her hand around his elbow and guiding him deeper into the cavern. "Let me show you what we've managed to save."

Gerard looked back at Poison and the wonder on his face made everything worthwhile.

-fin-


End file.
